good stuff

tough stuff

April 12, 2011

I am seriously going to do my best not to spew exclamation points all over this page, but. You Guys!!!!!! Guess what. Free-er. Because I just noticed something, I have tototally stopped saying “it’s ok” when I’m talking to people about my story and they look at me with little bits of sadness and sympathy and say “I’m sorry”. I just noticed last night. I had this sweet conversation with a new friend, she shared some of her story, I shared some of mine and when she said “I’m sorry” and I just said "thanks" and we moved on. And it. Was. So. Cool.

This little (big? neverending?) process I’m in feels so good. This leaning and trusting feels so good. This allowing myself some space and grace feels... amazing (!!!!!!!!)

Fancy Nancy told a little story at Pink Impact (!!!!!!) about sitting in her counselors office and telling him it was ok when he cried through stories of her childhood. And, ha, that is exactly what I did with her, well with lots of people really. Ask me about my childhood, my marriage, my divorce and I will give you a straight up answer. I will be honest and real with you about how rough it was. And then I will try to make it ok. Well I used to. But I’m done with that, which kind of feels awesome (!!!!!!!)

I got the privilege of getting to serve at a Freedom training a couple of weeks ago and getting to hear Alan Smith teach. And then we did a little (big? awesome?) exercise. And you guys- I cried. It was super. I’m terrible at crying. Really, it’s not my thing. It’s reeeeally hard for me to do. But this cry did not swallow me up or crush me. It was a releasing kind of cry, a feeling hurt and letting it go kind of cry. And it wasn’t even awful, it was kind of nice actually, helpful for sure.

Finding grace for me is most probably the hardest thing for me to do. I am a “get over it and move on” kinda girl. I am so, so tough on me, but being tough on me is not helpful and the perfectionism that sneaks in when I let it is quite honestly so much more than annoying.

And so, I am happy with not making things ok, for me or anyone else. It is not my job to make my past ok. Phew (!!!!!!!!) I don’t even know how to explain how much weight has been lifted off (and now I’m crying again).

March 28, 2011

Warning: This post is rant-y and wrought with generalizations. Oh well. In no way am I professing to have this all figured out. But, I have observed a few things.

Men, I love you. Really I do. And I hate to throw in a “but”, ahem… but… Maybe it is just my own misfortune, maybe it’s this Fatherless Generation of ours, I dunno, but I feel so often like a truckload of Peter Pans has been dumped into our society. It’s not even about the video game obsessions; it’s the general skirting of personal responsibility and feeling that the world owes you something. It totally doesn’t.

And women, I love you too, in an entirely different fashion sure, but love nonetheless. Ladies, can we stop this giant pendulum that keeps swinging from being fully dependent on men to discarding them completely? Honestly, there is nothing wrong with desiring a man, you were created to actually, desperate is ugly though, and danergous. And there is nothing wrong with being strong and independent, but there is no need to toss aside femininity and despise any and every male.

And my gosh, it doesn’t help that we are all entirely oversexed. Like, it is every-freaking-where. All the time. And it’s expected. All the time. Ugh. Look, I get it, it’s the bees knees right? Yeah. But it has an ordained context. It is not a tool of manipulation to get or keep a relationship. It is not a good way to pass the time on date number three. Gosh. You know what? Guys, don’t expect it, don’t push it. And maybe ladies, stop giving it out like it’s a hug.

I want… ha, I want a lot of things. But mostly I want to call us all to a higher standard. Can we raise the bar a little please? Women, can we hope for Something More for ourselves? Can we expect love and give respect, ask for commitment before we give ourselves physically? And men, will you set aside your appetite for instant gratification? Will you allow yourselves to be called to greatness?

Look, I say all of these things while working on my own issues and with full awareness that nobody is perfect and we are all in process. I say all of these things in love, knowing that there are plenty of men and women out there that these statements do not apply to. I would like, (love) to be married again someday and honestly, I don’t refuse to compromise, but I do refuse to settle. Our generation entitled and materialistic though it may be, is also wise, resourceful and strong; and I believe in Us. And yes, some of you men are certainly a scary combination of overbearing and underachieving. But some of you are an awesome combo of compassionate and powerful. Ladies, yes some of us are desperate beyond comprehension and bitter to the core. But we were made to be full of passion and wonder and grace and strength and tenderness.

My heart breaks that so many miss the beauty of relationship and what God has for them. We might have few good examples, there are some though. The Bible is a pretty good starting point. Understanding your identity is key, and learning about God’s heart is the best way to do that. And yes we live in a fallen, broken world, but we make our own choices. We can choose to spend time with people who are good examples. We can choose to learn and grow and let Him change us.

I had dinner with Ron and Nancy a few weeks ago and it was lovely of course. The cool thing was, they’ve been married for 37 (!!!) years and he did not stop complimenting her the whole night except to listen to how her day went and kiss her a couple of times. I sat humbled with a goofy smile on my face, happy to hear such kind affirming words poured out in such love. Finally Nancy said (grinning from ear to ear and eyelashes batting as usual) “Honey, that’s all very nice, thank you, but I don’t think we want to make Amber sick.” My reply, “No, let him go on, please. He is raising the bar. Let me believe that there are men out there like him. And couples that end the day like this.”

I know that it is easy to give in to the temptation to be nothing more than a product of our environment. But also, I know that there is Greatness in everyone. No generation, no sex, no one is beyond redemption. We can overcome the struggles of our past. We can rise above heartbreak that threatens to crush and fear that threatens to suffocate. We can raise the bar for ourselves and future generations. I believe we can find and grasp So Much More. And I hope we will.

February 28, 2011

You have probably heard me say that Griffen is my quirkiest child. This is true, he is about as different as different can be. Griff is his own little man, always has been. His brain works overtime, and from the outside his thoughts seem quite random. To call him an independent thinker is an understatement. He is something like hyper, just busy I guess, and smart as whip but unconventional as heck. His cleverness often comes across as arrogance and his internal processing makes him seem aloof.

When he started Kindergarten his teacher had him tested for both ADHD and dyslexia. He’s a brilliant kid though, so he passed both tests with flying colors. Honestly it left us all a little unsure about what to do with his inventive but off track mind, enormous appetite for information and constantly moving body.

My heart soared and sank all at once. The first thing I thought was “Awesome, I get to raise a little Edison!” the second thing was, “Great, he’s not going to grow out of all this off track, out of the ordinary stuff.” That was five years ago. And he certainly has not grown out of it. He has sort of grown into it. I’ve implemented some of the boundaries, behavioral and dietary suggestions recommended for Edison Trait kiddos, and that has certainly helped.

But the thing that has helped the most has been to really embrace what a unique kid he is. He is fully entertaining and extremely bright. And as he is maturing, our conversations are more and more enlightening. He’s a vocal kid, in touch with his emotions and his vocabulary is endless. His invention notebooks take over an entire bookshelf. This year he was fortunate enough to get an amazing teacher. I’m forever getting notes that say “I so enjoy Griffen!” and “What an awesome kid!” It’s been sweet for sure to see him blossom and develop as he’s been not only accepted but affirmed by the people around him.

So often in the past my fear has been that he would get lost in all the Go Go Going! Of his mind. It can be a challenge for him to relate well to others because he is so internally busy. My heart has ached for him as he's had to work through some tough issues. God has really helped me put it all in perspective though. I've struggled with wanting to help him steward his gifts, trying to explain the importance of listening and being respectful, and making sure he doesn’t feel all wrong or inadequate. There is honestly a careful balance for me between being enthralled with his brilliance and wit, and getting absolutely frustrated at his lack of focus and attention.

This handing my worries and fears about my kids over to God has been somewhat revolutionary with Griffen especially. It’s freed me up to see him for him. I can understand his uncommon strengths and weaknesses, and lay aside my frustrations to help him with his. And he in turn has become more secure and easier to connect with. We laugh together often, mostly at his jokes. Where there was sometimes tenseness in me and insecurity in him about his quirks, there is now a confidence.

He is exactly the kid God created him to be. And to further confirm that, here are his notes from church last week:

"Hear and obey faith is the foundation God wants us to believe him. Faith is believing no matter what. God wants us to immerse our faith in him. the book of Salma's has over 100 Iwills in it. Note to self have great battles and victory. God delivers everyone. Believe in god t'ill the end. assignment: read John. I can prophesie"

I don't even know how to explain how melted my heart was when I read that. And then last night we had this conversation:

Me: You're a smart kid, you know that Griff? Griff: Yes, actually I'm one of those people that is aware of their intelligence. Me: Well you do you know why you are so intelligent? Griff: Because I'm good at transferring information into knowledge. Me: Okay. And how do you think you're able to do that? Griff: Basic logic and quick wit. Me: Okay. And where do you think you got those? Griff: Are you trying to get me to say that you're smarter than me? Me: **Sigh** No. I'm trying to get you to acknowledge that God gave you your intelligence. Griff: Well of course He did. He gave me everything. He made me. He made everything.

I love, love, love that I get to be his mom. I love that he came to me just last week, put his arm around me and said “I’m glad I get to be your son.” I love that imperfect as we both are, we are exactly who God created us to be and becoming more so all the time.

February 24, 2011

A good cry, an ugly cry was sneaking up on me. There was a little lump in my throat, small tear here and there, and deep sighs galore. So I got my jammies on, got a glass of water and went to brush my teeth. And then I turned towards my bed, saw the place where I wanted to land and fell into it. I lay there, toothbrush in hand, sobbing, choking on toothpaste and tears.

Carrying around my whole entire world has kind of been my thing. I’ve learned to set it down now, thank goodness. It used to chase me around, the responsibility of it all, begging to be held. And sometimes it seemed easier to pick it up, sling it on my hip, or throw it over my shoulders than to keep telling it to go. The thing is, I knew it so well, if I did pick it up I’d forget I was toting it around until I noticed the pain in my back. So learning to give it up, practicing giving it up, has been good.

Responsibility is a good thing to carry sometimes I know, but it weighs me down when I let it. If I’m not careful, every hard thing around me will climb onto my back. Not a welcomed burden at all, familiar though. I recognize now more quickly than I did in the past when the heaviness sets in. I’ve become accustomed to handing things over to Him. I've learned to love the feel of walking a little lighter, a little taller. I held onto this lie for so long though, believing that I was in charge of holding the world, my world at least together.

Up until sometime last year, I thought that every bad thing that’s ever happened to me and people around me was my fault. All the big and small things that have torn, cut and broken, only happened because I caused them to. More precisely I thought that they happened because there was something awful in me that called out to evil. Little-Me, Teenage-Me, Grown-up-Me too, we all thought we were covered in the shame of our wrongs and wrongs done to us. I thought the visibility of it left me marked forever with depravity, a glowing target for Badness. And let me tell you, that’s quite a cumbersome load to bear. Also, it's quite a lie to denounce.

Oh and before I found all thisFreedom, pain of all kinds from all different places felt like it was mine to carry. If I found hurt sitting on a friend, I would take it. If they resisted I would insist. “Let me take that for you. It’s fine; I don’t mind at all.” And it was true, I hardly knew the difference between my own grief and someone else’s; it was all the same to me. Really I thought, “What’s the use in someone else feeling hurt if I can feel it for them and they can be free of it?” Silly? Yes, but an honest glimpse into my silly self. I am wiser now though, a little. I’ve learned that all this shame and pain is not for me hold. And I am glad to let it go, Free-er for having handed it to Him.

There are these other Responsibilities though, four of them that I am carrying around. There are Four Lives that I have been entrusted with. And I am not looking to pawn them off on anyone at all. But I think maybe I am supposed to grip them less tightly, not walk around white-knuckled with anxiety. I think the worry lines in my face wouldn’t run quite so deep if I trusted Him more with them.

It’s tricky though because I understand that I am their mother and so raising them is my job. And I am honored to have that privilege. But the thing is, I’ve spent so much of the past couple of years feeling like I have to be their Everything. I feel like I have to be Mother and Father. I’ve felt mostly… oh geez, fine, I will tell you what I told Him last night- I felt both incapable of being their Everything and unwilling to fully entrust them to Him all at the same time.

Mostly I think I do an okay job. But then sometimes I think, they deserve better than ok. I think they deserve amazing, and some days I am just too tired to be amazing. I think they deserve the best Mom in the whole world, and I try to be that but fall short on a regular basis. And then well, I think they deserve the best Dad in the whole world. And while on some level I get that I can’t be that for them, it hasn’t stopped me from trying. And it certainly hasn’t stopped me from hating that I couldn’t be that.

You know what I mean? Providing for, nurturing and protecting These Four outstanding human beings, physically, emotionally and spiritually, that’s kind of a lot sometimes. It’s too much really, more than I can... more than I am supposed to bear. I trust Jesus with me and my stuff. I have given over the weight of all the messiness I’ve experienced. I’ve stopped taking on other people’s pain. But giving Him complete control means letting Him be in control of Our Life. Last night I realized- I hang on to this fear that they won’t have Enough because I can’t be Enough. It’s a lie born out of a lie and I’m done with it.

I’ve worn myself out the last few weeks. They’ve had to deal with some big things and in the midst of dealing with my own big things, I’ve tried to help them. My attempts at being Mom and Dad of the Year have left me all kinds of exhausted. I’ve beat myself up when I’ve fallen short and I’ve put off dealing with my own stuff in favor of distraction and self loathing. And that’s wrong. So I’m going to stop it.

I am not supposed to be their Everything. He is supposed to be their Everything, just like He is mine. And the best thing I can do for them is to teach them that. And the best way to teach them that is by letting Him have more of me and in turn, letting Him have more of them. I am supposed to be their mother. And I think maybe I’ll be a much better mother if I let go of the other stuff. Worrying, struggling and beating myself up are nothing but distractions from what I should be doing. They are excuses really to blame myself and start the whole cycle over again.

So last night, in my bed, curled up in tears, messy and tired, I gave up. I confessed all this crap. I asked Him for help with this load. And that He would help me understand more and more, the difference between my job and His job. I held out my hands, let go of the protection and control that I had been gripping so tightly. I asked for forgiveness and received His Love. And this morning, rainy though it was, seemed much more hopeful. And now the sun is out, so that’s good.

February 21, 2011

Divorce sucks; I know. I think Elizabeth Gilbert put it best when she said “it’s like being in a really bad car accident every single day for about two years.” It nearly killed me multiple times. I have come through it though, by the Grace of God and with the help of my Amazing Friends. (Holy cow it took so much for me to get here, and even more for me to have enough perspective to actually write about it), but I feel like I can safely say- Though I never wanted to be divorced, there is no part of me that wants that marriage.

To spare you all the gory details I will just say it was a long, horrid end to a sometimes super shallow, occasionally heartbreakingly beautiful relationship. We were a dangerous mix of passionately devoted high school sweethearts and outrageously reckless enemies. It was an all too addicting cycle of rage and immature love. We became each others idols, and though I would never in a million years recommend divorce, breaking out of that cycle was the best thing I’ve ever done.

You should know this guy was the first person I ever perceived to love me selflessly. I’ve said before that my heart has known that Jesus loves me since I was itty bitty and this is true; God’s love and grace carried and covered little me through many terrible circumstances. My crappy childhood though, left me believing that humans were incapable of loving me. When this guy loved me, well I placed my entire world in his hands. And he was only a sixteen year old boy at the time, and I a fifteen year old girl. And so the most codependent relationship in the world was born. And then it died. (Which is for the best, trust me. Also, the actual reason behind the divorce is really a small detail in the story; and I feel it totally unnecessary to justify this decision to the world, so I will leave it out.)

Having made it to the other side of this mess though, I thought I would share a little about how I got here, (hopefully you can follow along with my mostly neurotic explanation)-

I’ve talked to you about my Inner Voice before. She’s not the brightest Inner Voice, a little harsh, a little judgmental, but she’s what I got. I’m working on softening her and have learned to take her to God, thank goodness. But a lot of my conversations (with myself) in the first couple of months went like this:

Inner Voice: Well, I guess you will just have to give up on men. All they do is hurt you. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure that is all they are good for. Me: What?! No! I love men.Inner Voice: Okay dummy. They do not love you; they just want to sleep with you and hurt you.Me: Seriously?Inner Voice: Yep, look (queue long memory reel of guys who have done their best to prove this point to me)Me: Crap. You’re right. Now what?Inner Voice: Stay away from them completely. Me: Ugh. That does not sound awesome at all.Inner Voice: What’s your other option?Me: Get crushed again?Inner Voice: Yep. Also, the father of your children? Everything he ever did or said was evil. Me: What?! What about the good stuff?Inner Voice: It was all wrong.Me: (deep sigh) Okay, I guess you’re right.

Maybe I am the only one who has had this sort of experience with divorce, but I think maybe not. I will say this, I do love men, for many, many reasons. And I do have a few good ones in my life. So (with help from God, friends and counseling) I worked out a plan to convince myself not to totally shut down towards every male in the universe. I spent time with Jesus on a regular basis, and I intentionally spent time with the great men that God put in my life. It was extremely helpful to experience safety and love in a male context while going through separation and divorce.

But I couldn’t shake the idea that the first person to ever selflessly love me was wrong and everything he ever did or said was wrong. Honestly, it wrecked me daily. It proved my twelve year old self right and took me back to thinking I was totally unlovable. If the one person who made me feel loved had decided he hated me, then all hope was lost. If everything he said and did was wrong then all the kindness and affirmation I got from him was wrong, and all the truths that he spoke about my heart, hands, mind, eyes, smile and everything else were wrong.

Also, if everything was wrong, then because I had given him authority to shape and therefore destroy my identity, it was going to have to be rebuilt from scratch. The hard thing about that was, it’s hard to see the truth about yourself when you are feeling awful all the time and your identity is twisted and misshapen. If you hand somebody your whole world and they say in a loving embrace, “You are so breathtakingly gorgeous, and the way you mother is so tender and good it touches my soul”, and then in a frenzied blowup they say, “You are wretched and I hate everything about you from your body to your words, especially your words”, well, let’s just say it gets a little confusing.

God was going to have to tell me about my value and worth; that was my only hope. And I was going to have to let Him; it was the best option I could come up with. So on a daily basis, sometimes mentally and sometimes on paper, God and I made a list. He pointed things out and helped me separate facts from falsehoods. Almost in spreadsheet form, He helped me discover truths. “You are beautiful inside and out.” “You are worthy of more than just sex.” “Don’t shut down to everyone. Don’t shut down to men. Don’t shut down to intimacy.” “Your body is my dwelling place, take care of it, but it’s not about being skinny.” “Your mind and words are a gift, but they can be misused.” “I gave you these children because you are the best mother for them, not perfect, but chosen.” I meditated, journaled, prayed, grieved and rejoiced. On and on He pursued me, spoke to me and answered question after question with Love.

One truth at a time, through reading the Bible, spending time with Him, listening and agreeing, I came to understand who I was in Him. Together we sorted things out. Tricky business, and I am not professing to have it all figured out, but I am much clearer on Him and me than I was.

Sure it would have been best if I hadn’t let that guy define me, I know. I understand the importance of not letting people shape my identity now, hindsight is twenty twenty and all that jazz. And certainly there were many other things that helped me work out this complicated mess. Every helpful step that was made though was a step towards Him. I’m not saying that I made all the right steps at all. I fell a few times for sure, ran in the opposite direction more than once, but I always came back to Him because nothing else ever came close to His words. It was all very “Redeeming Love” really.

The whole process was so tough, exhausting sometimes, but so much more than worth it. And now that I have made it through and have a little perspective, I am ever so grateful that He allowed me to come to Him and work all this out. I’m glad for the opportunity to spend time with Him and learn from Him. I understand that I am still in process, hope to forever be. And I'm happy to have Him tell me who I am all the time. Thankful that He is willing to sit with me, talk to me help, me heal and Love me.

A man that I respect very much grabbed me by the arm a couple of weeks ago. He looked me in the eyes and said affirming things to me. It was a kind of revolutionary, just some more redemption I guess. My experience has not been that being snatched up by a man generally leads to hearing kind things. That is exactly what he did though. And thankfully I was smart enough to stand there and let him, I even glanced up at him occasionally. I don’t know that that would have been the case if God had not already been graciously, tenderly, mercifully sowing seeds in me. It was a testament to the Freedom I have received for sure. It was a confirmation of His Love at work in my life.

Anyway I say all this to say- He is ready, willing, wanting to do the same thing with You. And I highly recommend letting Him.

February 13, 2011

This weekend has been... well rough is too kind a word... Friday was the two year anniversary of our divorce, which would have been fine except my ex got married on Saturday, which would have been fine except Sunday is the six month mark since that Terrible Thing happened, which would be fine except, Monday is Valentines Day. It's just kind of a lot, almost too much.

I've known this weekend was coming and have not even attempted to grieve any of this stuff. It all seems too overwhelming to deal with. I know Jesus is always with me, but sitting in an empty room crying into a pillow over all of these reminders of agonizing heartbreak just has not sounded appealing to me. Somehow, well... in an effort to be quite honest, getting drunk sounded more appealing to me. And so I went to a very safe friends house and drowned my sorrows in cheap whiskey. This sounds ridiculous I know, but my back and neck have been sore for two days, I'm sure from holding all of this in. And getting to sleep on a pillow that wasn't soaked in tears seemed impossible. Stumbling into bed dazed and numbed seemed like my best option. And that's what I did; not my finest decision.

Sleep came easily, but then He woke me up at two thirty, almost three hours ago now. I gave getting back to sleep all my best efforts. And then I prayed a little "I'm sorry" prayer. Something along the lines of "Please forgive me. I am not going to slip into this pattern. Thank you for giving me a safe place to fall last night. I love you. I'm sorry." An hour later I was still awake. I grabbed my Blackberry, cruised Facebook and Twitter for a few minutes, and in a last ditch effort to get to sleep, opened up my Bible app. It auto loaded today verse, Psalm 6:

LORD, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Have mercy on me, LORD, for I am faint; heal me, LORD, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, LORD, how long?

Turn, LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave?

I am worn out from my groaning.

All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my pillow with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes.

Away from me, all you who do evil, for the LORD has heard my weeping. The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer.

It kind of rocked my world, so fitting, so raw and real. Almost like "Whoa, hey, get out of my head" kind of perfect. And I am so humbled. I know it may not sound like the most comforting verse, but there is not a verse that could have comforted me more. These words are perfect. My own personal perfectly fitting Psalm.

I love when He just SHOWS UP, even if it is at 4a.m. I love when I feel like there is for real, not pretend, not I hope, not even I know because the Bible says He is, but He just actually, literally, is here, seeing, hearing, feeling, loving, showing, giving moments they are almost eerie, almost spooky, but oh do I treasure them, oh did I need one.

Yesterday when I talked to Nancy about this stuff, she gave me the "You are in the palm of His hand" line and I rolled my eyes. "Ok, but right now I want something more real." And now, it's like... if a real person were here with me, there's no way their words would come close to doing what His just did. My circumstances have not changed, but- the Creator of the universe woke me up in the middle of the night to let me know that He is aware of what is going on. It was very much like Jesus was right here in bed with me, threw His arm across me and pulled me in close. I mean, wow. I'm in awe.

"i just want to share this with you. i grew up in a very devout pentecostal family. i have since denounced christianity, then re-embraced it, in my own way, though not exclusively. anyway, i love to see your devotion, almost a mystic relationship with a Beloved Jesus. it makes me feel like you GET IT, on a deeper level, which is entirely the point. that's all... just wanted you to know that it is a beautiful thing for me to see."

It is maybe the best message anyone has ever sent me. I don't know that I could describe my relationship with Jesus in better words. It is almost mystic, except for the fact that it is the most real thing I know. And He is most definitely Beloved, the Truest Love I have found. I'm not sure about my devotion, it wavers more than I would like it too. This GET IT thing though, that happens because He GIVES IT. All I'm doing is receieving. That is the beautiful part.

When I am hurt and trying to numb the pain, lost, overwhelmed and begging for real, He shows me what REAL is. Love, love, love. ::sigh:: Love.

*edited to add, for those of you who might be wondering- No, I did not drive home; I spent the night at my friends house, that was the plan all along. And yes I know that this was a terrible solution for dealing with this grief. I have been talking to Jesus about it for the past hour. We are going to make sure it doesn't happen again

February 09, 2011

Sometimes coming to someone I love who generally has all the right answers and telling them my Big Overwhelming Problem and hearing them say “I don’t know” is extremely helpful. I went to a friend the other night all tense with anxiety. I spilled. She held my hands, looked me in the eyes and said "Well, I don't know." And I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Those were exactly the words I needed to hear. Because it meant that figuring out the answer was not her job. Or mine. It was like a little nudge.

Sometimes "I don't know" is more like "I love you and I understand this is tough. You're going to have to take this to Him." Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of consulting friends about stuff. I’m all for gaining wisdom from relationships. But sometimes. Sometimes I come to someone with a problem and no part of me even wants them to have the answer. What I really want is for someone to confirm that what I am going through is in fact a Very Big Deal. Not that I’m going around looking for sympathy, but a little validation never hurt anyone.

Sometimes though, what I really need is a push towards Jesus. Because I can spend hours, days really in my own head, untying knots and untangling things, and make no real progress at all. Sometimes I just need somebody to look at the mess I’m holding and say “Uh, yeah. You’re not gonna be able to fix that sweetheart. Better take it to that Amazing Father of yours.”

Did that ever happen when you were a kid? Did you ever try to fix something, mess it up even worse and then try to get your friend to help you fix it only to realize that you were going to have to show your Dad what you had done? Scary stuff? Yeah well, I didn’t have a dad around to make that a scary thing for me. Instead it’s just not something I’ve ever thought to do. It wasn’t an option for me when I was little, so sometimes I totally forget that it’s an option now.

Sometimes I need a little reminding. Because there are days when I look at my problems and think I can totally figure this out. And there are times when I think What would Nancy do? (Actually, if there is something that I have decided I can't work out on my own, I generally just call her and ask.) But it is unfortunately rare that I go straight to Him. It just is not my default, (yet). So I am thankful for the occaisional push. And I'm leanring.

I'm learning to stop running around in my own head, and to recognize the urge to do so quicker. I'm learning that it's good to have friends validate my feelings, but it is way better to hand my stuff over to Him. I am learning that I can trust Him with hard things. He is not scary, and He is so much more than safe.

And I am so grateful for this Amazing Father who is both ready and willing to help me with the things I am struggling with. And boy am I ever thankful for friends who don't have all the answers and aren't afraid to push me towards Him when I need it.

February 04, 2011

It has never not been helpful for me to grieve something. I have never taken the time and effort to work through pain, hurt and disappointment and been left wondering why. It is always good in the end, to release, to let go, to give it to Him and trust Him to take care. And still sometimes, I resist the urge. Some nights the prompting to grieve and let go comes and I stave it off like it is going to be the death of me. I distract myself as completely as possible.

Six months ago, when that Terrible Thing happened, I gave up my three favorite coping mechanisms- drinking and smoking, and well, that other one. And now I am left with food, books and a couple of other not very effective distractions. And part of me is wishing I had picked up that cheap bottle of red at the grocery store.

Why? Why not just do the work I know I need to do? I don’t know. Because I am a stubborn girl? Because that would be way too easy? Because I’ll take this dull throbbing over the sharp pain of opening up this wound? Because I am just not there yet.

Nancy talks about grieving all the time, and because I love her more than words and she is mostly right, I listen. It has been more than helpful, it has been freeing, to get rid of junk, trade in ashes for beauty. I have benefited immensely from her wisdom especially in this area. Heck, I’ve preached her grieving sermon to friends. And I have learned to practice the process of grieving for the most part. But it is an art form really, the openness, the stillness, the focus, the aching, the letting go. It’s an acquired taste, healthy but certainly not the yummiest thing in the world. Certainly not the first thing I grab out of my emotional pantry when I am looking for comfort.

That first time I stayed at Nancy’s house, she made this awful looking health-shake for breakfast. She offered it to me and let me taste it. Part of me wanted to love it because she did. Part of me wanted to gulp it down with a smile just like she did. I’m sure it is full of all the right things, the healthiest shake in the world. It’s probably the reason why she looks half her age. And it was probably terribly impolite of me to refuse with a hint of disgust. I thought all of those thoughts as it sat in front of me, and then I opted for scrambled eggs and toast with jam. And she made them happily, laughing a little actually.

I think maybe that’s what Jesus does. I think maybe He has made this healthy mix of good things for me and He offers me a cup sometimes, watches with keen eyes as I sip, and smiles when I refuse. I think He is okay with me not being quite there. And I think maybe I will learn to like health-shakes eventually. (At least I hope so, because I sure would like to look half my age someday.) I think maybe someday I will not spend so much time thinking about why I don’t want to process the hard stuff in front of me and I’ll just gulp it down like a big girl. I haven’t quite acquired the taste though for this grieving stuff. It is a thick, frozen, flax-seed, strawberry, wheat-germ, hard to swallow, blended beverage.

You know what would have been awful? If Nancy had forced me to drink that nasty shake instead of sweetly cooking up something warm and yummy. That would have been the opposite of helpful. Lucky for me she is gracious. Lucky for me, He is too.

Part of me likes to think that she does not always drink health-shakes for breakfast. Actually I have seen her eat bacon and eggs. So maybe it’s okay that I am writing right now instead of taking my worries and wounds to Jesus. Maybe in a bit I will chug this cup of goodness He is offering. I am doing my best not to refuse with a hint of disgust. It will be helpful I know, but I am so in the mood for bacon and eggs right now.

January 23, 2011

She stormed out, slamming the door without a word, no hint of where she was going or when she would be back. There was no telling if we would be home alone for hours or days. Fighting with my mom and ending up in charge was way too familiar. Furious and refusing to be scared, I clenched my jaw to hold back tears and went to her bedroom. A few minutes later I emerged waving a booklet for my crying sisters to see, “She left the food stamps. We can walk to the store if we need anything. We’ll be fine.” I was ten years old, the girls were eight and four. I wish I could say that was the beginning or the end of terrible times in my childhood, but it wasn’t. It was the middle.

My dad left us when I was about five and things went pretty steadily downhill from there. Neglect and abuse of all kinds combined with being the oldest made me an expert problem solver though. Not being taken care of trained me to take care of myself. As a child who needed to make it day to day and make sure her sisters made it as well in some pretty rough government projects with drug addicted, creepy adults around every corner, problem solving comes in handy. As an adult, it shows up as self reliance and self sufficiency, at least in me it did. As a child of God, it prevented me from leaning on Him and letting Him take complete control in my life.

I’ve said a few times that last year a string of terrible things happened. And though I’m not quite ready to write about any of those things specifically yet, I will say if you can think of something terrible, it probably happened to me last year. It left me broken to say the least. Honestly, it left me a shattered, scared, starving shell of a girl. Thoughts of suicide filled my quiet moments. I could hardly eat, developed a stutter and anxiety shook me to the core pretty consistently. The good thing about that was, it shredded every illusion self reliance that I held.Not for a second have I thought that God caused those things to happen to me, but I do believe He used them to bring me closer to Him. I have found freedom like never before in letting go of striving, controlling and problem solving. I have found Love and grace like never before in trusting Him and turning myself over to Him completely, repeatedly.

A couple of times recently I’ve said that I have the beginning and middle of a really great testimony. I am a storyteller by nature and so eager to share, but part of me wants to see everything worked out completely. Part of me wants to play my story out until all of the problems are solved, all the way to the happily-ever-after end before I can give a testimony. And this is just the middle.

This middle is my life though. This middle is my story. This middle is my redemption. God did not leave me a shattered, scared, starving shell of a girl. He lifted my head, He gave me life. He held my hand and put people in my life to do the same. He sheltered me when I needed it, gave me friends to encourage and guide me. He pointed me towards resources that Helped me. He provided atmospheres of healing. He showed me Love and took me to places where I could go to be immersed in it.

I don’t need a happily-ever-after or the-end to my testimony. I don’t want one. I want to love this middle that I am living. Of course I don’t want to be shattered again, but I do hope to continue to have stories of His love and faithfulness. I hope to discover more freedom every day. I hope this middle keeps changing me. And for now my testimony is this- I am free and getting freer.

That was not even a little bit true a few months ago. If you were not around to see, I was pretty much a wreck. Not that I was the most graceful person in the world before, but I walked like a newborn horse for a while, all shaky and unsteady. My head stayed bowed most of the time, my eyes barely left the ground. My size four jeans nearly swallowed my vanishing self. My speech, almost constant for most of my life, escaped me completely for mumbles and stutters. And twice I was talked out of picking up knives. He did not leave me there though. That is my favorite thing about Him, He never does leave. When I say He lifted my head and gave me life, I mean it quite literally. I am alive. He brought me out of the prison of self reliance. He helped me trade in the shackles of self sufficiency and yield to His full-of-grace will for my life. I am free of addictions and disorders. I no longer walk in shame. I can sing and laugh and dance. I can keep on growing, live this middle part and trust Him to work out the end. And that is all the testimony I need for now.

January 15, 2011

Fasting is a struggle for me.Well, kind of. I mean, I am great at not eating. That’s the danger.

The last time I fasted was about three years ago. I had asked my husband to move out because of some issues that could not be resolved while he was living in the house, and though it was the only logical decision at the time, it broke everything I believed about me. In the first few months of our separation, I spent many days fasting, on my face before God, praying and begging. A few things happened as a result. God met me there, over and over again. I got closer to Him and learned some things about His heart and as a result was able to sort out some truths about myself. Also, I started dropping tons of weight.

Really what happened was, I learned to embrace hungry. Not a bad thing maybe, unless losing thirty pounds to get to a healthy weight turns into losing sixty pounds and not being able to force yourself to eat. Luckily with help, I was able to work through my eating issues for the most part. Needless to say, I have been somewhat leery of any kind of fasting for a while.

It has come up a couple of times in the last month or so though, and I’ve really been talking to Him about what He wants me to do.My church is joining with many other churches in a fast and I’m attending Kairos in a couple of weeks. Part of me so wanted to be able to join in and gain clarity and nearness through fasting, and part of me was scared that my focus would shift back to food and weight. I prayed, a lot. I was open to Him asking me to wait. Honestly, I was open to Him saying “No, you can’t.”

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try it out. Two days on a water fast and I didn’t feel the slightest tinge of hunger. And that scared the crap out of me. So I asked Him about it, “How did I not feel hungry for two days?” And then in my spirit I heard Him say, "You have been hungry for so long that it is your normal. You have learned to live on so little, and I’m not just talking about food. Your life has been spent in survival mode. You’re not hungry because your stomach is small, it doesn’t expect much food. And your heart- doesn’t expect great things from me.” Ouch, that was my first thought.

My second thought, “Okay. Can we talk about this over dinner?” And we did. He revealed some very sweet things to me over soup and crackers. His heart is not for me to starve myself, emotionally or physically. His heart is not for me to be so hungry, so consistently that it ceases to feel like hunger- emotionally or physically. He has So Much More for me than that. My expectancy was for Him to just say “No, you can’t.” if I wasn’t ready to start fasting, instead He showed me His enormous capacity to Love, yet again.

Equipped with freedom and soaked in the Love He has for me, I am doing a moderate fast now. The clarity I was hoping for is most certainly happening. Big things are in the works. He is near, speaking and I am listening carefully, (and eating, all the time, promise). Much like these photos of trees and snow, the scene is the same, but the focus is shifted. This is not about food or weight, it is not even about hungry anymore, it is about finding out what He has for me.

He wants me to have life abundantly. He has freed me from the bondage of an eating disorder. And He has freed me from much bigger bondage than that as well. Not so that I could live carefully, expectant of no’s, not so that I could survive on meager portions of food or Love, so that I could thrive and grow in all that He has for me.

He wants to increase my capacity to receive Love so that I can be filled to overflowing with that much more of Him.

A message of abundance, feasting if you will, while fasting? Yes please.